How did people born in the era of midcentury modernism try so hard to turn back the clock that they super glue 5 robber baron mansions together in the middle of a golf coarse to find happiness. Too much lead paint maybe?
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As one of those pinko Europeans your hear so much about, I am baffled by American homes. The size of an aircraft hangar, the architectural gaudiness of Wollaton Hall, and the building standards of a chicken-coop. That is one odd combination, or 'lestways is for me.
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And posting yet again.
I kind of wonder having looked at McMansion Hell and actual McMansions as well as comments about their quality of build here.
Maybe Millenials are not killing them as much as they are killing themselves as they are not what they promise to be.
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Also, yeah 35 year olds aren’t the mansion market. So no you really can’t thank the Millennials for this pleasant turn of events.
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Indeed, but, again, the cohort responsible for the demise of the McMansion doesn’t exist anymore. Everything is the Millennial’s fault, even all the stuff Obama got blamed for.
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I’ve been marooned for the past week in the immense gated community of McMansions where my in-laws have finally split the difference between Maine and Florida.
For miles in every direction it’s nothing but slab-plonked faux chateaux, golf course, and sandy stands of pine awaiting their demise.
I try to explain to my wife precisely what bothers me about them, for example:
“See there, that roof has a gambrel roof, with a gable roof stuck to it, and finally a shed stuck on that. They are encrusted like limpets upon barnacles.”
“Now this feature here, where the gable roof suddenly steps down to another ridge, leaving a one foot swath of extra clapboards to paint. Is there a religious reason the house had to be circumcised?”
“The stone facing abruptly stuck on here, at the bottom and up both edges, looks like a chinstrap beard. If it weren’t for Rapunzel’s tower over there, it might look like an Amish farmer.”
“You ever see those kids’ flip books, where the page is in three pieces and you mix up the animals? This house has elephant feet, a flamingo butt, and a lion head. If they went full flamingo I could respect that, but this is a monstrosity.”
“And this looks not like a house for people, but for cars who have human servants.”
Really, there is only so much one can do in this wasteland of prosperity.
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McMansions are being “killed off?”
I seriously doubt Millennials have anything to do with it.
Some people just want someone else to be the scapegoat for every self-inflicted problem in existence; so that they can focus on ‘blame’, instead of actually fixing the problems.
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I would very much like for you to make a video of one of these exurban hell drives replete with extemporaneous dialogue!
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My wife keeps me around because I amuse her. I have no other particular function.
“Ridgecrest? Ridgecrest? Really? Where’s the ridge? The crest? This is the most dishonest name since Mount Pleasant, Texas.”
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See also: every patch of woods clear cut to make way for a McMansion subdivision called some variant of “The Woods”.
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That would be a hell of a way to never get invited back, though.
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I’ll still take that over the “Snow Crash” burbclave names we’re headed for if right-wingers and Libertarians get their way. Especially “White Columns”, “Dixie Traditionals”, and “Pickett Plantations”.
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Don’t open jars, eh?
(Sexist trope presented in jest only, but for real, I do open jars)
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Only if she loosens them first.
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Funny how subdivision names are almost always either a) completely made-up bullshit, or b) based on what used to be there.
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Mine is during Victorio’s War, when somehow both the US and Mexico were victorious but the Apaches were not.
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The funniest (?) is when they bulldoze it all down and then call it “The Preserves.”
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Yes, and I resent the implication that Millennials invented snark. No generation brings the snark better than Gen-X!!!
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The subsection of the immense gated community I’m in right now is called “The Reserve.”
I don’t know what all the other parts are called. I think one is “Seaside.” Though it’s a couple miles to the sea.
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